


Mean Assassins

by Klavi



Category: Assassin's Creed, Mean Girls (2004)
Genre: Mean girls Au, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavi/pseuds/Klavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mean Girls meets Assassin's Creed. Pretty much self-explanatory</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mean Assassins

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously don't know what's wrong with me but somehow I'm proud of this thingy. I probably made some mistakes, so it'd be awesome if you'd help me since I'm not a native speaker.

_„This is your lunch, OK? Now, I put a dollar in there ,so you can buy some milk.You can ask one of the big kids where to do that.“_

My père, my father gave me a brown paper bag, talking to me like I was some first grader and totally helpless. Being treated like that, just because we moved from France to the USA. Okay, I was homeschooled until this date. But in my opinion, there was no need to mother me.

_"You remember your phone number? I wrote it down for you, just in case. Put it in your pocket, I don't want you to lose it.“_

I sighed a little. My mother wasn't better. Like, I would forget something important like that? With another slight sigh, I put the note in my pocket and smiled as they asked: „You ready?“

I was more than ready. Well, inside. On the outside I seemed insecure and shy, and just let out a small „I think so.“ My father took his camera and smiled as he said it was my, it was Arno's big day. Mum was hugging me and was crying rivers like we'd never see each other again. I wondered if every parent whose kids had been homeschooled for a long time would have reacted like my parents did. Probably not. Well, but for the first day at a „normal school“ it was okay. I thought so.

Anyway, I'm sixteen and until today, I was homeschooled. I can see it coming. All those prejudices, you guys picturing me as a freak who loves to go to spelling contests or something like that, spelling words no normal person would use in their lives, or as some religious freak who thinks that evolution is just a fairytale and God created rifles to kill all the homosexuals. I'm not like that. My family's pretty normal, except for the fact that we lived somewhere in France, in a forsaken region, just to explore the history of the place and other stuff..They were historians and well, living in a godforsaken place was their „mission.“ But some months ago, they got offered tenure at a university- or something like that- anyway,t hat meant, au revoir France et bonjour High School.

I walked towards the school, was at crossing the street when a huge, yellow school bus drove past me at full speed. Mum was screaming in shock and Dad seemed frightened, but I turned around smilingly and said everything was fine and I would be careful. Then I turned again and I knew my adventure was about to start. The mass of students frightened me a little. I tried to make my way through the masses without interacting or even touching anyone since I felt like I was about do go insane, but there I hit somebody by accident, almost got hit by a football and other small incidents. I gulped. As I glimpsed to the right side, I could see a group of students, one of them was throwing down something burning while another stepped on the burning thing, probably paper. Some other students were scuffling with each other, so I quickly turned my head and walked into the huge school.

When I went into class, I registered the new surrounding and smiled at the big, brown haired and presumably Italian woman. „My name is Arno Dorian, I'm the new student.“ She stared down at me: „If you talk to me ever again, I will kick your ass, stronzo“ Some students laughed, a girl with black hair and a boy who was wearing a hood. When I tried to sit down next to that asskicking girl, the black haired grinned and giggled: „You don't want to sit there. Fiora Cavazza's boyfriend is gonna sit there.“ In the next second, a brown haired got hugged and kissed intensely by Fiora. I just stared at the grotesque scenery and made my way to the next table behind a boy with one arm. „He farts a lot!“, the boy with the hood snickered, followed by a „ugh that smells like hell“ movement by the girl and the one-armed boy turned around with a frightened expression. I could not even make my way to the next table, so I decided to go to the front, maybe the teacher could help me out, but my eyes were fixed on the two awkward people that were commenting me all the time and so, I crashed into the teacher and her coffee splat on her pullover and a box of donuts fell on the ground. Merde. And that on the first day. The whole class was amused and I tried to pick everything up from the ground, mumbling „Mon dieu, I'm so sorry, really, I'm so sorry.“ She smiled and just said it wasn't my fault, just bad luck and now tried to get the sweater off when the head teacher, Warren Vidic, made his way to our classroom, „Mrs Vespucci?“ She just replied „My T-shirt's stuck in my sweater, isn't it?“ and of course I pulled the shirt out of the sweater since I had to compensate for a lot of things, and I just said: „Oui“, followed by the teacher's sarcastic „Fantastic.“ Quite puzzled, the head teacher stared at the two of us, asking if everything was alright in class. Vespucci smiled and just said: „Oh yeah“ The head teacher obviously tried to hit on her ,asked how her summer was and quite cold the other one sighed and said that she got divorced. Bad luck.... Anyway, the principal wasn't better, he told the teacher his carpal tunnel came back, raising his arm a little. Well, she won. She definetly won. „I won.“ „Yes, you do.“ The principal just said what I thought.

Then, Mrs. Vespucci turned to the class and announced that a new student was here. Me. „Well, I just wanted to let everyone know that we have a new student joining us. She's moved just all the way from France.“ I was puzzled. Yeah, I was a boy, although my hair was a bit long and I seemed girlish -still there was the question why she'd think I was a girl, my voice wasn't even that high-, but then, I realised she didn't mean me but a black girl in the front row, huffing: „I'm from Louisiana.“ Nervously, the Italian woman just giggled and said: „Great.“ „The name's Arno. Arno Victor Dorian.“ „Where are you, Arno?“ I waved: „C'est moi!“ The two teachers now looked at me and said „Welcome, Arno“, pronouncing the „o“ as in „bowl“, and I corrected the pronounciation, though I think they won't remember how to pronounce it correctly. Really, I had no hope. I had no hope surviving at this school anyway. Mr. Vidic talked about his nephew and Mrs. Vespucci told me that I could come to her anytime.

But it was all in a blur. It felt a bit..surreal.

All those adults not trusting in me anymore.

At that point, I didn't know what was going to happen the next weeks.

My life would change a lot.

 


End file.
